Don't Know What To Make Of You
by GottaLoveTen
Summary: Dinner, murder, Sherlock, John, OC, milk and spoilers ensue. Please note that I am still debating whether or not to write this story, I'm just testing it out.
1. Get the Milk

"Why?"

"Because it's important, Sherlock."

"How is it important?"

"Oh, come on. It is just one dinner, that is all I'm asking."

"Just dinner?"

"Yes."

"Will there be people?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then no."

"Sherlock, it's just Mary, Ms. Hudson, Molly, and Greg."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Greg?"

John just sighed. "Yes, Sherlock, Greg. Lestrade. Greg Lestrade."

"Is that really his name?"

"Yes, and it's his birthday, so it would be nice if you would just go."

"…"

John looked at Sherlock with a blank face, waiting for his answer.

"Really? Greg?"

"Oh my God… Okay. If you go, I will… buy the milk." Even though John already moved out and got married, it seemed like he still does his old job. Buy groceries.

After a short silence Sherlock said, "Nice try, you know I don't buy the milk anyways."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock let out a dramatic sigh and got up from his oh so comfortable couch. He stepped over his low coffee table and checked his phone, which was on the table by the chairs. No texts, no calls, no case. Damn.

Walking from the center of the room, John went over to his chair and sat down, sighing happily at the familiarity of it. Just like old times. Ever since two years ago, John thought Sherlock was dead, until he suddenly waltzes in on his dinner date with Mary. He was just about to propose to her when Sherlock revealed himself. He always had the best timing.


	2. Jumpers, Not Wine

"Holy crap, if you do this one more time," I growled at my eyeliner. Correction, liquid eyeliner. This is the fifth time I've had to correct the wing on my eye and the skin was getting pretty red with irritation. Frankly, I was getting irritated also. For some reason, the universe granted me a gift and gave me a perfect wing in one swift motion. "Ha HA! Take that you liquid sin!" I reveled in my victory for a while until I realized that it was smaller than the wing on my other eye. "Son of a-"

"Biscuits?"

Sherlock shrugged, "What?"

"You got Greg biscuits?"

"Doesn't he like biscuits?"

"It's his birthday Sherlock, why don't you buy him a tie, or a nice shirt?"

He scoffed, "Boring. What is it with people and button up sh-"

"My shirt!" I tried desperately to wipe off the lipstick that had gotten onto my white shirt, but it just smeared even more. I would have cried, but I just did my eyeliner. "Dress then. Okay. Fi-"

"-ne. I'll go out and get him something else, if it makes you happy."

"It does," John said, triumphantly crossing his arms. "But you have to get dressed first, and I'm going with you. The dinner starts in an hour, and we've wasted enough time as it is."

"What time is it." I paused, waiting for an answer. "Wait," I checked the living room. My room mate left. An hour ago. "Oh, yeah." I looked at the kitchen clock. "Alright, an hour, I can do an hour. Wait, pres-"

"-ent yourself with dignity, you aren't wearing a robe to a dinner party."

Sherlock sneered. "Watch me, John."

I jogged into a small store on a corner of the street down from my flat. "Present, present, present. What does Greg like? Wine? No, sober. Alcohol bad." I walked around the store, muttering to myself.

John walked into the small shop, smirking while Sherlock adjusted his tie. "This is ridiculous."

"What, us having to buy another present or me having to force you to put on a decent outfit?" Sherlock looked around, observing his surroundings. A woman in a black dress brushed by him, muttering to herself. Flowers. She smelled like flowers. Artificial. Perfume. She's rushed. Stressed. Making an important (?) decision. "Sherlock."

"What?"

John held up a jumper. "Hideous." John sighed. "Buy it." Sherlock started to walk away.

"What? Sherlock?"

Sherlock approached the woman, who was currently looking at a display of different wines. She was still whispering to herself. He cleared his throat. She didn't even move. He rolled his eyes and tapped her shoulder.

I whipped myself around to see a man standing behind me with a blank expression. I don't know what I was thinking, I was already talking to myself so I said the first thing that came to mind. "You're wearing a tie."

"Unfortunately."

"Yes," we stood there for a few seconds, just staring.

"You're buying a present for someone."

"Yes."

"You're indecisive."

"Yes."

"They don't drink."

"Yes. How-?"

"You should get him a shirt. I've been told they're nice."

"Who told you that he is a he?"

"You did, just now."

"Crafty, aren't you?"

"I am." No one said anything after that. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

After paying for the jumper, John made his way through the aisles, looking for his friend. When he found him, he stopped and frowned. Sherlock and a woman in a black dress were standing in front of each other, just staring. John walked closer to them. "Uh, hello." The woman turned towards him, but Sherlock kept staring.

"Hi."

"John Watson," he stuck out his hand, which she took.

"Megan." He smiled.

"I see you've met Sherlock," he narrowed his eyes at his friend in confusion.

The woman hummed and turned back to Sherlock. "Interesting name."

"So I've been told." A silence filled the air as everyone shared glances.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you think we should be going out soon?"

"No, but if you insist. Goodbye, Megan."

"Goodbye, Sherlock." With that, Sherlock walked back to the entrance of the store. "John," she nodded and turned around and headed off to the men's shirts section.

John nodded and looked around, not knowing what to do next. "Okay, then." He followed Sherlock out.

**Hey, guys... so... it's 2016. I, uh, remembered my password. I hope you guys are still here. At least I've had a while to think more about the plot.**


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